Moments
by Assassination
Summary: Moments like these will be never forgotten and always treasured. [Little stories for pure entertainment, done for fun, etc.etc. Starring: Ezio, Altaïr...and Desmond on occasions.]
1. one

**Read**

He stared at the text that was scrawled across the page, leaning back in the seat he was currently sitting in. Cold hues darted from side to side as he read what was before him, the book being held within one hand the other moving to run his fingertips over the paper.

The whole thing consisted of a language he struggled with.

Not that he didn't understand it, he just could not speak it well. Unless someone could stand the language being broken in bits and pieces.

Like _amico_ he knew was comrade, or friend, depending on whom he was speaking to. Then there was the common _amore_, which translated to love. Parting his scarred lips to breathe out slowly.

As far as he could tell this book was basically centered around the history of the Italian race, how it came to be.

"Surly they know this without needing to read it," he mumbled in Arabic, shifting his legs position, setting the leg that had been resting on the other's thigh down then raising said limb to set it over the previous one. "This is ludicrous."

"Most of us do not bother to remember such history, _amico mio._"

Air brushed along the back of his ear, causing the man's left arm to flex and twisting in his seat, about to kill the person who dare to sneak up on him. Instinct really. Though his arm was blocked from doing so by a gloved hand.

"Calm yourself,_ il mio assassino sfacciato_," the figure laughed, receiving a glare once the other male recognized his voice. "Did you miss me?"

Turning his head away the tanned man returned his attention to the book. "...not at all."

**Disturbia**

Ezio stared at the device before him, eyes wide with amazement and intrigue. "What did you say this was again, Desmond?"

"A stereo."

"And what is this?" He made a motion to the air while also indicating to the speakers. "This..._suono strano_..."

"Disturbia."

"_Che cosa_?"

The descendent slapped a hand over his face in defeat.

Altaïr had grasped this a whole lot faster than the Italian.

**Cortigiane**

"They are much more than they seem, Altaïr."

"I doubt that."

"_Cazzo_! I will show you!"

Altaïr simply stared at him with a blank expression, he had seen what courtesans do - firsthand. Not only did they suck the blood out of someone, money wise, but they also swung their bodies about suggestively as they pranced about around the person who spent _one hundred and fifty_ florines to have them follow.

Was he the only one who saw no point in this?

His grey-blue eyes followed Ezio's movement and watched him pay the courtesans, to then see them move about Ezio.

The Italian didn't stand a chance.

A few hours later, his back pressed to the wall and arms crossed, Altaïr caught sight of someone heading his way within the darkness of the area he decided to lounge in. There the 'triumphant hero' stood, covered in red lip prints, clothes disheveled and looking completely worn out.

"Is this what they are 'much more than,' Ezio?" he prodded, lips tugging back into a smirk once said Auditore pulled back his hood to look at him with a defeated expression.

"No..._ Avevi ragione, amico mio, avevi ragione_."

Ah, the sweet taste of victory.


	2. two

**Lines**

Altaïr stared down at the sketch placed before him.

Surely this was a joke. There was no way someone - the person who did this - was serious while making this. He was tempted to turn to Ezio and ask if he knew of anyone who would draw such things. Though said Italian seemed quite distracted earlier.

After handing him _this_, this...thing. Warmth slightly colored his cheeks once he figured out what the image was.

Again: surely this was a joke.

Perhaps he should go visit Leonardo. The man would know someone who drew like this - given he's locked in his workshop most of the time. Deciding to do so he rolled up the paper and tucked it securely near his heart, inside the button-up shirt he wore - since being in this time and wearing his usual attire would attract undesired attention.

Once he reached the young artist's home the Arabian knocked softly, raking his knuckles against the wood. Moments later the blond opened it.

"_Ciao_, Altaïr!" he greeted, spreading his arms wide and enveloping the foreign man in a hug that was reluctantly returned after a pause. "What can I do for you?"

Reaching into his shirt the tanned Ibn La-Ahad pulled out the rolled up paper, unrolling it to reveal its contents to Ezio's friend.

Round blue spheres peered at it with extreme intrigue, only to then burst out in laughter. Lips parted, shoulders rocking before lifting his hand to cover his mouth.

Altaïr rose a brow, confused by this reaction.

"_Dio mio_, he actually did it!" the blond bellowed, holding his sides. "_Non posso credere che lo ha fatto_."

"Who?" the Arabian growled, muscles tensing. "Who are you talking about? Answer me."

Leonardo paused, glancing up from the sketch with a perplexed, contemplating, expression. As if he should truthfully answer the Assassin.

"Leonardo..." the grey-bluish eyed man grumbled, bringing the sketch back to his side. "Do you know -"

"Leo! I cannot find Altaïr! _Merda_, I think the picture I drew upset him..." a familiar, smooth, voice called, Altaïr turning to see Ezio standing there. The Italian's hood being pushed halfway off, ceasing in movement once the brunet noticed the person he'd been looking for. "..._merda_..."

"You drew this?" Moving over he held the picture in front of his descendant's face. The image of them sitting on a rooftop, leaning against one another and kissing. "_You?_"

It was then that he had to chase a fleeing Ezio.

**RIP**

The young man crouched down, holding onto the head of his latest target, slowly lowering the corpse to the ground. Closing his eyes halfway while breathing out slowly. This man had accepted death, although a bit panicked as he found out that he was bleeding profusely.

"_Requiescat in pace_."

"He took his death quite well."

Veering over his shoulder the Italian rose a brow then pressed his bloodied hand against the ground to push and stand. "Well,_ signore_, unlike you I am much kinder and appear less intimidating."

"And I do not pay women to flaunt about me."

"Altaïr...shut up...just shut up." He then turned sharply on his heel and disposed of yet another guard easily.

**Rain**

Attentive eyes stared out the window from the seat far from it. He didn't want to be anywhere near the clear glass. There was just something about the crystal clear fluid that caused him to jump away and back into the shelter.

There had been no need to learn to tolerate large quantities of water. Back in his hometown, even in Acre, there was water. Though not in too big a level as Acre possessed. Even if in this time there was more of a chance that while being chased by guards and leaping to another rooftop that one would fall and drown a moment later.

Letting himself fall back more into the chair, listening to the droplets that pelted the window.

Shifting to stand he slowly made his way to said glass. Watching the rain fall down into the center of the building he'd confined himself in. Placing his hands against the cold surface the man pressed his forehead to it.

Warmth covered his bare hands, thought it was also cold.

Snapping his eyes open he veered over his shoulder, eyes flashing from shock. Chocolate spheres were staring back at him.

"_Buon pomeriggio, l'amore__._"

"...good afternoon, Ezio." was his response, tone flat and unpleased as the soaked body pressed closer to his own. Which ended up getting him wet in the process. "Get off."

"Aye, Altaïr, your words are like knives," the Italian chuckled, placing his chin on the man's shoulder. "You wound me so."

Ezio curled his fingers, capturing the Arabian's hands. Holding him captive and pressed to the window, both peering out towards the rain that was pelting the window relentlessly.

"...welcome back."

"_Questo è esattamente quello che volevo sentire__._" came the younger Assassin's reply, turning his head and pressing his lips to the other's cheek.


	3. three

**Gift**

Ezio stared down at the object placed upon his desk, his chin propped up in the palm of his right hand, reaching out with his other hand to lift said thing and twirling it between his thumb and index. Twisting it kindly and as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

Perhaps it was, though he couldn't tell why.

The scent coming from the item between his fingers had a soft smile grace his lips. It was lovely. Not like a rose's smell, but mild and timid, yet it smelt sweet in a way. It may not make sense to others but to him this gift was lovely.

Now the problem was to find out who left him such a gift...

He instantly wanted to pin it on Altaïr, though the man didn't seem to like to openly display his affections unless forced to. Which was rare, seeing as Ezio knew how the stoic man felt. Having been taught to focus on one's body language and facial expressions - for assassin and romance reasons specifically.

Like when his love would cast a quick glance his way then as swiftly avert his eyes when Ezio would look over it usually meant the man desired his attention, that or a kiss. Another indication of Altaïr requesting his attention would be a 'gentle push,' while they're alone and the Arabian seeming like he's simply passing his fellow assassin.

They were odd expressions of displaying affection, but he didn't complain. They were rather...'cute' in a sense.

Now, back to the main point. This flower, a Gerbera to be exact.

The pink petals were shimmering in the sunlight that managed to seep in through the small crack from the curtains, twirling it to have the light dance over it. _I wonder..._ Looking up from it he blinked once he saw a hand push away the curtain.

Flicking his hand to activate the hidden blade, Ezio was in position to strike though paused immediately one he took note of a flower that fell. Tilting this way and that before falling to the ground.

A Gerbera.

The curtain was pushed aside by a gust of wind, revealing a certain Arabian. Altaïr was holding onto a bundle of Gerberas in his arm, the ends of his robes flapping in the wind and his hood falling back to reveal wide greyish-blue hues.

Apparently he hadn't expected to see the Florence native to be at his desk, poised to kill if necessary, and even holding onto the flower he had in his arms.

"..._il mio amore_," the Italian breathed, glancing down to the flower then back up to the man. "You left this here?"

A slow nod was his response as Altaïr leaned forth, setting his left foot on the ground then taking his right off of the window sill to stand erect, his arms looped around the floral arrangement that mostly tilted against his right arm.

"For me?"

Another slow nod, the assassin closing his eyes, moving his left hand to grip the massive amounts of stems to the ones he held and held them out towards the Italian. "...these are for you."

A bright smile crept across Ezio's features, the hidden blade retracting and pushed to stand. Moving over to Altaïr he rose his free hand to grip the man's chin and pull him into a kiss. Slow, soft, passionate, and yet not rushed nor sloppy. Just the right pace.

Pulling back slowly the long haired brunet grinned like no tomorrow. "_Grazie, il mio amore._"

**Catch**

His heart was pounding as he ran across the rooftops, eyes focused forth then breathing out soft pants while his shoes' soles tapped the tiled surface. Greyish-blue hues narrowed slightly, urging himself to move faster once he heard another pair of footsteps chasing after him.

The man dared not hazard a glance over his shoulder for the fear of slowing down and allowing his pursuer the upper hand in this chase. Such a situation would not suit him well, though the other figure would surely not complain.

Noticing that he needed to jump to another rooftop soon, the man glanced out the corner of his eye, blinking once he saw that there was a ladder to climb up to another roof. Gritting his teeth Altaïr skid to a slight stop, turning, pushing off his foot and continuing to run but this time in the direction of the ladder.

His pursuer seemed to have not anticipated this because he heard a grunt behind him and a curse.

This had a small smirk tug at his lips, reaching out to grab for the ladder, only to feel himself suck in a surprised breath once a throwing knife caught onto his sleeve and forced him to stumble, pinning him to the wall.

Growling Altaïr reached his left hand up, gripping the handle, about to tug it out before a gloved hand grabbed it before his own could and the other hand grabbed hold of his wrist to pin it to the wall. Snarling at this vulnerable position the assassin grit his teeth once he felt breath ghost over the back of his ear.

Hot and moist, a tongue trailing over it teasingly before teeth nipped the lobe.

"I win, _amore_."

"That is because you cheated," he hissed, tensing once he felt Ezio press him further against the wall.

"That may be, but I still caught you. Now...say _it_."

"..." That was right, the loser had to say those three words to the winner, regardless if they cheated or won fair and square. Though Altaïr wished he would have instead turn around and tackled the man down instead of ending up like this.

"Say 'it,' _Altaïr_..."

Closing his eyes the Arabian curled his fingers, feeling the other respond by doing the same. "_Uhibbok_, Ezio."

* * *

><p><strong>Assassination's Note: <strong>I looked up 'how to say in Arabic' stuff on the internet, so if what Altaïr said is wrong, please tell me the correct version (or if not, tell me it's wrong and I'll find a way to indicate he's saying it in a different language).**  
><strong>


	4. four

**First Strike**

Desmond stared at the Italian, whom was standing in front of a certain dai that was currently trying to get to the fridge to get ingredients. Lunch time was rolling around and it was his and Malik's turn to make the meal, perhaps a Syrian dish.

Though at this moment, it seemed like Ezio was officially fed up with the man's 'snarky' attitude.

The poor descendent held onto the salad bowel with a sigh.

This wouldn't end well, he could just tell.

"I want to aid Desmond in making lunch," the assassin grumbled.

"You always want to spend time with Dezmund when the novice is away..."

Ezio slapped his left hand over his heart in an outraged, insulted, manner. "I am offended, Signore! I do care about dear Desmond!"

_Funny how they're talking about me like I'm not even here... _the brunet thought as he turned his back to the two bickering men.

Malik then turned to face the young Miles, whose back was facing him. "Shall we get lunch prepared? I wish to get away from this stupidity."

"_Bastardo!_"

All the descendent could offer in return was a sigh, raising a hand to motion the rafiq come over by him.

Poor Ezio never felt so left out.

**Fights**

All couples had their fights. Every single, last, one of them. Most got through it while others just broke it off entirely.

Then again, there was also a little thing called 'the silent treatment.'

Still...those couples weren't Ezio and Altaïr.

Due to a certain Florentine's ways, Altaïr had grown tired of it to the point he was _ignoring _him and chatting away with their descendent. Not only talking but he was teaching Desmond his mother tongue!

That wasn't exactly shocking though. The Syrian had taught him before the younger assassin - but that was besides the point. Desmond even seemed pleased that Altaïr was spending more time with him than usual.

Ezio even began to ponder if what he'd done made his beloved assassin dislike him to the point he was _replaced._For good. And replaced by a reluctant Miles no less.

Sure, he's flirted with girls on multiple occasions in front of Altaïr - _accidentally_, of course. Sure, he'd been caught in bed with a couple of them - but he was _drunk_, really, he had been. And, sure, he accidentally said _someone else's name _instead of the Arabian's -

...this all sounded really bad in his head.

* * *

><p><strong>Assassination's note: <strong>Yeah, another one with only two...sorry. I found these while rummaging through one of my notebooks. I coulda sworn there was three, but I guess my eyes played tricks on me.


	5. five

**Teeth**

Altaïr was _almost_ sure that a certain Italian possessed a biting fetish. Maybe not that, but it was pretty close. His neck, collarbone and shoulders showed that very well, marked up with teeth and even some bruises from the harsh nips. Ezio would do it at any given opportunity. Like last night while they were watching a movie with Desmond.

It was a mistake to let his guard down and lean back against Ezio's chest, actually assuming the assassin wouldn't dare nibble with their descendent nearby. Oh, how wrong he was.

The sneaky Auditore had made it to his target slowly, so slowly that Altaïr thought that the movie had been boring him. Well...it was kind of boring. All it was was a 'thriller,' as Desmond called it. Explosions and face-to-face fighting, no tact whatsoever. Apparently no one understood the use of stealth.

Ezio had rested his chin on the Syrian's shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist - the youngest of the three had come to the conclusion that Altaïr just let Ezio get away with it because no matter what they said, the brunet would keep at it until he got what he wanted. Cuddles, hugs, nuzzles...they were all innocent at least - and tilted his head to the side, lips just inches from the tanned flesh. He had then nuzzled his nose against the expanse of Altaïr's neck, pressing his chest flush against the man's back.

When he did bite him, however, the Syrian's eyes widened with a gasp torn from his lips. Which had caught Desmond's attention and had the eldest grit his teeth as he _jabbed_ his elbow into the chuckling assassin's side. Little brat.

It had been just a few hours after that and Ezio had been back at it once again. Though, this time, it was while Altaïr was laying on his stomach, playing a game that the young Miles had assured he'd like. Something about this 'Royal Protector' being blamed for the death of the Empress of this place called 'Dunwall.' He appreciated the effort Desmond put forth in trying to keep him from going stir crazy - being locked inside until he got used to this time's customs was unbearable.

The Italian struck when he was listening attentively to a cutscene, going on about how they needed him to kidnap a man and bring him back there.

During the middle of the one-sided conversation the young assassin had managed to sneak up on him and took hold of Altaïr's wrists before he could retaliate, flipping the master assassin onto his back. There was an evil grin playing at Ezio's lips as he tightened his hold on the struggling man's wrists, controller forgotten on the ground.

"_Salute, bello._"

"What do you want, Ezio?" he snarled, glaring daggers at his...boyfriend. It was still difficult letting go of the whole, 'If you're into men, you're killed.'

"Nothing." That damn cheery tone was starting to grate on his nerves.

"Then get off of me."

A pout graced Ezio's lips, sliding his hands up to intertwine their fingers. "I do not want to." The Italian leaned down, his breath ghosting over Altaïr's lips and resulted in a shiver running down his captive's spine. "I don't think you want me to either,_ il mio amore_." he purred, eyes falling halfway shut as he rose one of his hands, hand slipping back to hold onto Altaïr's wrist.

The brunet parted his lips, about to protest but grunted once teeth sank into his palm.

Again, he was almost certain Ezio had a biting fetish. Or was just marking what he deemed was his.

**Texting**

He stared at his phone, a single brow raised at the text scrawled across the small screen. He wondered silently if Ezio was half-asleep or extremely hyper while he was typing this up because it was downright ridiculous.

Something about how his best friend was now dating Desmond and about how cute it was...again...something like that. The words were jumbled and Altaïr was just getting a headache trying to make out what it said.

Yeah. Ezio had to have been half-asleep or _drunk_. No way would his texting be this bad if he was excited.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the man sighed, contemplating if he should bother sending a response. Altaïr knew that if he didn't -

His phone beeped, a little icon showing he had a new message. From Ezio. Go figure. Opening up the text, he scowled since all it contained was his name in capital letters five times then having, 'TEXT ME BAAAACK' attached at the end. Yes, if he didn't text back Ezio would just keep bothering him until he did or called to chew him out for being so annoying and sending too many.

Was it a crime that he didn't like cell phones or live by them?

Altaïr exhaled heavily, closing his eyes before opening them and pressing 'reply.'

**Silence**

Ezio had those days where he was 'as chirpy as a bird', as Altaïr would call it. He had those days where he was clumsy and would slip up during a chase to catch and end his target's life. There were even ones where he'd drink himself into a stupor with the company of courtesans, just to relax and laugh.

The worst kinds were when he has nothing to do, allowing his mind to drift and be pulled into dark memories. When he'd seen the lever be pulled and his two brothers and father hang. How he'd heard some people cheer, make snide comments, even saying they deserved it. He remembered how Uberto accused them, calling them _traitors_ and not trying to _save_ them, as he'd told Ezio he would.

Liar. That man was a liar, he was the traitor and when the young Auditore had gone with hope that his family would remain in one piece.

Not as broken as it had become.

Ezio looked down on his hands, both arms having a hidden blade strapped on. He flexed his fingers, curling then uncurling them. Brown eyes fell halfway shut and soon closed all the way.

He remembered being filled with so much rage, his bloodlust. The want for revenge and to spill the man's life essence, as much of it as he could. Coat the ground with all of it, paint the streets red. And, oh, how he'd felt so much better once he'd done it, watched Uberto's eyes widen in sheer horror. Watched with sickening joy as the life drained from them.

His lips turned downwards, swallowing a moment later as his shoulders began to shake slightly.

Ezio furrowed his brows, hands clenched into fists as he hunched over. The memory crashed over him, carrying all three bodies elsewhere to give them a proper burial, how he didn't want to let any of them go.

How he _wished_ he could have turned back time and taken out Uberto before he could condemn them.

He missed them so badly.

There was a weight on his shoulder, comforting. Ezio knew exactly who it was and was more than grateful that they decided not to speak as tears slipped down his cheeks. Raising his hand, the Italian took hold of the other's.

* * *

><p><strong>Assassination's note: <strong>Oh my...this isn't good. I haven't updated this since Nov. 7th...let me make it up by tossing these up here. I also realized that in the last one, in '**Fights**,' that I should change the rating to T since it was kinda...sexual near the end. I'd rather be safe than sorry after I got a story taken down already.

Also, while typing up '**Silence**' I was listening to a sad song so it went from, 'Supposed to be cheery,' to, 'Yep, we're going to make this angsty!'. Sorry about that. Another thing I want to add is that I can't think up anymore titles to call these little stories so...I'll just stick with 'chapter one, two, three, etc.'


	6. six

**Clothes**

Now Ezio understood why Altair had told him over and over again why he shouldn't try on his clothes. That they shouldn't bother trying on the other's attire that was made for them and they alone. It was too tight around his chest and the fabric clung to his skin, it was very uncomfortable and not only that but...but...

The design was so _plain_ compared to his! How could his lover stand this bland outfit?

He gripped the front of the tunic, tugging with furrowed brows. The Italian knew he really shouldn't complain or make fun of Altair's clothes or brotherhood's requirements. The whole, "No one is to stand out or wear different clothes." he'd lectured him on when Ezio had suggested they spice up his clothes a bit. Altair had declined immediately, looking rather put off and offended.

That was all before it was obvious that the Syrian was stuck in Italy with Ezio.

The brunet released the white fabric, hand sliding downwards to brush his fingertips along the leather belt. It felt rough against the pads of his fingers, senses taking in how worn it was. His other hand rose to look at the bracer, twisting his arm to look at the plates of armor covering from his wrist up to his elbow. They glistened slightly in the sun's rays.

Ezio swallowed thickly. He was wearing Altair's _hidden blade_. Altair's _clothes_.

Even if he complained about how simple they were, how heavy and constricting it felt - his boyfriend let him wear them.

His head jerked up, blinking at the sight of Altair sitting on the bed half-naked. Of course the Syrian wouldn't take off his pants, that's where he'd drawn the line - much to Ezio's disappointment.

Though the master assassin appeared to be a bit uncomfortable with being as underdressed as he was, even if he and the other had seen their partner naked. Ezio assumed that it was because of how the man was raised back in his homeland. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he made his way over to Altair, leaning down and placing his hands on the bed. Trapping Altair as the young Auditore pressed his forehead to the other's own.

"_Grazie_, Altair."

**Aquarium**

Altair stared at the book he had nestled in his right hand, his opposite's index running along the text that went into detail about the octopus he had to research about for his marine biology paper. His eyes darted about the page, mentally marking down places with important information that would be useful. The brunet reached for his pencil that lay atop his notebook that contained chicken scratch, notes that had been jotted down in a hasty manner. Biting his lower lip lightly, Altair glanced back and forth from the book to his notes then back.

Besides the sounds of pages being turned, an occasional cough here and there and lead against paper, it was pleasantly quiet in the school's library. Which made getting the information he wanted and finding what he needed easier. The silence had a calming effect.

Though his content mood was ruined when a book was dropped on the table, _right across from him_.

Great. Altair's brows furrowed, peering up from the book to regard the person who dared to invade his space. He blinked once he noticed that the one sitting across from him was Ezio Auditore. The flirt of the school, guy with a new girlfriend every few weeks...

If he hadn't been sitting here first he would've packed up his things and checked out the book to get away from the Italian. Nothing personal, really. He just couldn't stand him. With an inward sigh of frustration, Altair returned his attention to his task -

"Hey. Altair, right?"

The Syrian felt his eye twitch, nose scrunching up a bit. He rose his gaze once more, glaring at the man across from him. Who rested his elbow on the table, grinning as he leaned forward and looking way too energetic for Altair's liking.

"I was wondering," the Italian continued, "are you free this weekend?"

What? He blinked, his frustration falling away and replaced with shock, book falling out of his hold and hitting the table. Was...was Ezio Auditore, 'the womanizer,' asking him out? Wait - he _swung that way_?!

"Are you asking me out?" Altair deadpanned, pushing away from the other man, a bit surprised that his voice gave away how blown away he was by the question.

"What?" Ezio's eyes widened, his grin disappearing for a moment before he laughed. Softly, though. "No! No. Sorry if it sounded like I was." The long haired student shook his head. "I was just asking because Malik said that since we have the same research topic we should go to the aquarium on Baker Street."

This had the Syrian pause for a moment, raising a hand to run his fingers through his hair. So he wasn't the only one doing the octopus, huh? Hell...what would the harm be in going to the Georgia Aquarium together? It's not like they'd be going out, Ezio had said so himself. "Sure."

He was almost positive that if the other's smile widened just a bit more that he'd break his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Assassination's note: <strong>I looked up aquariums and chose the Georgia Aquarium - randomly chosen, I swear. ...wish I could go to one someday, but until that day I'll just keep writing. Along with a horrid attempt at humor. Don't lie to me...this was _horrible_.


	7. seven

**Story**

He pondered for a brief moment if he could kill the man beside him and get away with it, even with the crowd in the surrounding area. He wondered if it was possible that he could somehow shove him into the tank with the sharks. After cutting him by 'accident,' of course.

Why had he agreed to come to the aquarium with Ezio again? Oh, right. They were both doing a paper on the octopus and _Malik_ - whom Altaïr was seriously reconsidering calling his 'best friend' - had thought that it would be worth it for both of them to go together. Ezio just wouldn't _shut up_. The Italian was chatting away a mile a minute about something that had no relevance to what they were here to do.

"- and so I told him that he could -"

If he'd been anyone else, Altaïr was sure that he might actually be listening and exchanging his thoughts on whatever the jabbering Auditore was going on about. Yet he wasn't and had come to the point he was rubbing his temple.

"Ezio..." Altaïr started, eyes shut as he breathed in and out.

"_Si_?"

Storm colored hues opened, turning his attention to the other. "I'm going to go on ahead." He gestured to the hallway opposite of where they came from.

Ezio closed his mouth once he noticed how Altaïr didn't seem to be in the mood to hear about how he'd told off Vieri. Besides that, he figured that the Syrian had tuned him out since it hadn't had anything to do with the octopi. He frowned slightly once he realized just how right Malik had been when he'd forewarned the talkative man about Altaïr.

How the other didn't like him much.

Pity. Because, really, this trip was his idea - yes, he'd _lied_ about how the other's friend had suggested it. The Italian's brows furrowed from thought, a bit put off how his story didn't even get a chuckle. Everyone he'd told it to laughed. _Laughed_. Why was Altaïr being so difficult? Ah, right...because he didn't like him.

"...Ezio?"

He broke out of his train of thought, offering up a grin to the brunet. "Ah, _molto bene_. I'll join you in a bit."

Altaïr's annoyed expression turned into one of confusion, lowering his hand a moment later with a soft exhale before shaking his head. Thinking about it, he really shouldn't be mean to Ezio when the Italian meant well. "No. Nevermind. Finish your story."

**Trust**

"Ezio...?" his voice was soft, as if afraid to say the other's name any louder.

All his ears met was silence.

"...Ezio?"

A little louder, still no response. Just the touch of the other's hands holding onto his arms, soon sliding down to his wrists and brushing the thumb over the back of his hand. It was pitch black, Altaïr couldn't see a damn thing and there was _nothing_ he could do about it because the Italian was holding him in a reassuring manner. Why would someone want to let go of such a sensation of security?

Though, he did really wish he could see.

And that Ezio would _say something_.

"Ezio." No, he did not sound desperate to be able to see because all he could sense was the other's touch, the faint scent of cologne and..._flowers_?

He was nudged forth but he pushed back, not trusting where the Italian was leading him. Lips brushed over his cheek, soft murmurs of how he'll be fine and that he should trust him. How he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to, but he didn't like feeling like this. His sight taken away and to believe that he wasn't going to be attacked.

Eventually the Italian got him to move forward, towards what he didn't know. He'd been turned around slowly, parting his lips slightly when his partner's breath ghosted over them. Slowly, ever so slowly, Ezio lead Altaïr to sit on the bed. Or he assumed it was a bed, it felt like one and creaked as such.

A shove had been given, causing him to fall back onto the bed with a gasp and heard the furniture shift slightly, sensing that the Italian hovered above.

Altaïr cocked his head back, about to voice his protests but Ezio's lips silenced him. A hand running its fingers through his short locks, teeth nibbling his lower lip and the other hand taking hold of one of his. He wasn't sure what sound had risen from the depths of his chest but finally, _finally_, the cloth tied around his face loosened and once Ezio pulled back, the Italian lightly tugged it away.

Opening his eyes, the Syrian glowered at his partner. "_Ezio_..."

"Do you trust me a little more now, _mio caro_?"

As much as he hated to admit it, he did.

**Notes**

Ezio traced his finger over the words on the paper before him, a smile creeping across his lips. He never thought that Altaïr would do something this sweet.

As little as it was, the display of affection had the Italian's heart beat against his ribcage. His brown eyes fell halfway shut, following his finger that had gone over the words about _five times_ already. He heard the hustle and bustle of the people outside, Florance as active as always, even when it was mid-morning and some were still groggy from sleep.

His smile grew ever more.

"_Buongiorno anche a te troppo._"

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><p><strong>Assassination's note: <strong>I decided to add a little more to the '**Aquarium**' story with '**Story**.' *finds what was said hilarious for some reason*


	8. eight

**Assassination's note:**Long time, no post, huh? Especially since I haven't typed up much since Feb. 22nd. And, what do you know? I can type hetero stuff.

* * *

><p><strong>Life<strong>

She still couldn't believe how cautious Altair had been back then, all quiet and unsure if he should talk to her. He would deny it, no doubt, if it were ever brought up around their children. That caused a small smile to tug at Maria's lips as she sat there, chin propped up in the palm of her hand while she watched Altair hold their youngest. Barely a year old.

Sef nuzzled his face into his father's chest, the man offering up a soft smile as he peered down at the small child.

It still amazed him how such life could be given, that he had a part of this and a continued role. That he had two wonderful boys, that he had a loving wife. It was everything he could ask for and more.

He turned his attention to Maria, eyes halfway open and smile still in place. When the baby shifted, making a soft gurgle, both looked down on him to see the boy open his eyes slowly. Both their smiles widened at the sight of Sef reaching his little hands up towards Altair.

The assassin wouldn't trade this for the world.

**Snooping**

Ezio felt he should learn not to be curious and snoop about on Rebecca's laptop when she's away. It wasn't like he was expecting to see - read - what he had.

Normally it would just be files on what Desmond had found while he was in the Animus, running around as Connor Kenway. So, really, he saw no harm in plopping down in her chair as the raven haired woman took a stroll with Altair to who knows where. Both had been getting along exceptionally, much to everyone's relief since the man hadn't gotten along too well with Lucy or anyone else.

Besides Desmond, that is.

The Italian still couldn't figure out why the Syrian didn't like him.

Back to what Ezio shouldn't be doing. He'd seen the icon of a fox curled around what looked like the globe, this 'Firefox' that Rebecca told him about and gave him a stern lecture on why he should _never_ click the blue 'e.' It was open and he figured that there'd be no harm in a quick look, so he opened up the window.

Text was scrawled across the page, some website that had stories tossed onto it. Original, fiction and so on.

Muddy eyes ran over the text, crossing his arms and pressing his elbows on the desk. It all seemed innocent enough. There were two guys hanging out, joking and all that stuff. Much like what Desmond and Altair do, although...the Syrian still had trouble figuring out if the American was joking or not. Regardless, he was taken off-guard as much as the man in the story was when his friend just _laid one on him_ - wait.

What the hell is this? What?

It was at this point that he was speed reading, eyes widening more as he went on. Rebecca was into this stuff?!

"So, all you have to do is -"

Ezio's head snapped up once he heard the technician heading back, seeing that Altair was nodding in acknowledgment to whatever she was explaining. Swallowing thickly, he scrolled back up and minimized the window, pushing away from the desk to head off and find Desmond. Hopefully wipe his mind clean of what he read as well.

Once both comrades reached the computer, Rebecca plopped herself down with a knowing look as she opened the site Ezio had been reading. Erasing the history, she planted her elbow on the desk, chin in hand as she smiled at the man. "So...think he learned his lesson?"

Altair cast a glance over to Desmond, who was trying to calm the erratic Italian down, before returning his attention to her. "Yes. I believe so."


End file.
